


The Gaslight Behind Your Eyes

by Quillsandcoffee



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Dark Past, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillsandcoffee/pseuds/Quillsandcoffee
Summary: It’s not the first time Damien’s been alone on Christmas, but it’s the first time he’s cared and it scares him.
Kudos: 5





	The Gaslight Behind Your Eyes

Damien really thought this year was going to be different.

Sitting in a bar whilst getting drunk and emotionally spiraling had not been the way he had previously thought he would spend Christmas. Not that he had had any real plans for Christmas in the first place, but he had been pretty certain it wouldn’t happen in a bar.

He had been so hopeful back in September. It was just him and Mark and a world of prospects he had never allowed himself to consider before. Damien had truly thought that Mark could have been the answer. If he could see his powers from the outside than he could figure out how to control them and maybe things would finally turn around for him.

But then Mark’s powers were gone and it turned out that he didn’t enjoy the idea of getting kidnapped right after being freed from the AM. Which sucked, because Damien was starting to… he wasn’t sure. His feelings towards Mark were complicated. Love didn’t seem like the right word. Need was more accurate. He was dependent on Mark in a way he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. There had been moments when he thought Mark had felt the same way, but then again that could have just been his own want projecting. Not to mention, when he was under Mark’s control he hadn’t felt the urge to do anything even remotely romantic or physical. Not that he would have appreciated being forced into anything, of course; having his powers stripped away so thoroughly was still a frightening prospect. Still, it would have been nice just to know the want was there in the first place.

Then the AM happened and his worst nightmare was lived out in real time. Now it was Christmas and he was all alone with no powers and no prospects for the future. He groaned, rubbing the heel of his hand against his forehead and trying to relieve his roaring headache. It was like his body had chosen to skip all the fun parts of being drunk and get right to the hangover.

“You okay, bud?”

He glanced up to see a man, probably in his twenties, leaning over the bar with a look of concern. There were tattoos snaking up his arm, a mixture of a million different things, the blaring colors and swirling symbols only making Damien’s headache worse. There was a moment as he met the kind eyes of the man before him, that he was transported back to that little bar in Los Angeles and Indah was staring down at him with that same look. Are you okay Damien? she would ask. You know you can talk to me.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, very clearly not fine. “Just tired.”

“Oh.” The man looked like he was about to step off and respect his privacy but Damien pushed forward suddenly, not wanting to be alone. If he had his powers he would have just willed the man to stay. It was funny; he had wished for his ability to disappear for years but now that it finally had he found himself unable to function in its absence.

“I pissed off everyone I’ve ever loved,” Damien explained, gripping the whiskey bottle tighter between his fingers. “Yeah… I guess they finally figured out who I really was and they didn’t like what they found. They’ll probably never talk to me again.”

By they he meant Mark, of course. He couldn’t give a damn what the others thought about him. Mark would care, though, and that meant he had to as well. He didn’t feel like getting into the details of everything with some random bartender though, especially one who would remember all of it afterwards.

The man paused on his way to the back, drawn back in by a different kind of pull, that of social etiquette. He had dark hair that fell into his eyes and he swept it aside impatiently as he talked. It reminded him of Mark and how he was constantly pulling his hair back out of his face with clips and ponytails. Barbershops had been out of the question at the time and though Damien had offered to cut it for him, Mark had not-so-kindly refused.

“I’m sure you didn’t ruin everything,” the man said. “Sometimes people just need time to adjust to things.” He paused, glancing at him critically. “What did you do to them, anyway? Are you like a murderer or something?”

Damien snorted instinctively, before realizing quite suddenly that he had almost been one. The thought sobered him instantly. “No,” he responded quietly. “Something much worse.”

Now the man looked apprehensive. It was clear his earlier statement had been a joke and it was making him uneasy that Damien hadn’t seen it as such. Again, Damien wished for his powers so that he could bring back those kind eyes that had been so trusting of him before. Everyone trusted him at first. Then he opened his mouth and they all realized, like Mark had, what kind of person he truly was.

“Maybe you should take it easy,” the man said, nodding towards the bottle still held in his hands.

“Maybe you should mind your own business,” Damien sneered derisively. Just like, that the man’s expression cooled and he turned away, driven off like everyone else in his life. Damien sighed. Maybe Chloe and Dr. Bright and everyone else was right. Maybe it wasn’t his power’s fault. Maybe he was just an asshole and his powers were the only thing that prevented anyone from seeing that.

Mark hadn’t thought so, though. Not at first. Damien sat up as he remembered what Annabelle had told him, how Mark had protested him coming to the AM even after everything Damien had put him through. If someone like Mark who had seen the real him could still care for him, maybe that meant there was hope for him after all.

Before he knew what he was doing he had his phone in his hands and he was typing in Mark’s number, his movements jerky from alcohol and excitement. 

His thumb paused over the call button. He thought of Mark’s face when he had held Adam captive, thought of the panic and anger and horror in his eyes when he had looked at Damien.

Slowly he deleted the number and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He shoved the whiskey bottle away from him, sliding from the bar stool. He was drunk and it probably wasn’t safe, but he got into the driver’s seat of his car anyway, consequences be damned.

As he pulled out of the driveway Damien blinked away hot, blurry tears, the first ones of soon to be many. He drove off, alone on Christmas as all monsters should be.

How could Mark have ever loved anyone like him?

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at my tumblr: https://crookswithbooks.tumblr.com/


End file.
